Bulletproof
by saphira e.sparrow
Summary: picks up at the end of Countdown, nough said ;  warning: language, and grammar


Disclaimer: the usual, I don't own White Collar blah blah blah, there's the story, hope you like it. Picks up after Countdown. I apologize for bad grammar. There are references to NCIS: don't own that either.

"He took my wife," Peter choked out. Neal looked at his partner and friend, seeing the pain he had however unintentionally caused the man and his wife. Everything good he touched crumbled to dust in front of him.

Kate was died, Mozzie had been shot and was now leaving him, El was in the hands of his psychotic rival, Sara wanted nothing to do with him, God only knew where Alex was, and Peter, the man he trusted more than any of them, thought he stole a priceless treasure, lied about it, and now because he couldn't give up the game until it was too late, he was wife was taken.

Neal had officially hit rock bottom. A vise grip on his upper arm wrenched him from his self-destructive thoughts. "Alright Caffery, enough games. For once in your life tell me the truth," Peter growled viciously, still griping Neal's arm in a bruising grip.

"Did you take the treasure and where is it?" Peter demanded, in his no-nonsense voice. Neal slumped a little in defeat. "I told you the truth the first day, I didn't take it. After you interrogated my I got home and Moz told me he took it. And I protected him because he is…was my friend," Neal admitted miserably.

Peter's rage ebbed when he saw the fragile expression on the usually confident conman. _Was his friend?_ "Neal," Peter asked his tone softer, "Where is he?" Neal looked him in the eye: baby blue locked on warm mocha brown.

"He asked for my decision and I wanted to stay. He chose to leave with the treasure," he admitted, then dropped his gaze. Peter stared at him in shock. Neal had the treasure but he stayed. _Yeah because you'd track him down otherwise. _He lost his best friend to stay here. Maybe he's learning this is his home. _He lied to me._ You lied to him first and kept him in the dark. Of course he wouldn't tell you anything. _He got my wife kidnapped. _You're smart. Could you have seen this coming? No! So how could he? _Well he- he- _I've got to find my wife, I'll deal with him later.

"If he isn't gone now, he will be soon," Neal said. "Call him and tell him to stop," Peter ordered, then left to deal with his agents. Numbly, Neal took out his cell phone and dialed a number, he prayed still worked.

On the sixth ring, he picked up. "We already said our goodbyes, Neal. And you're not calling to say you change your mind, because I know-" "Mozzie," Neal cut in. his tone wasn't demanding or firm, it was close to a soft murmur, but Mozzie heard it, and it scared him.

Despite their agreement to go their separate ways, Mozzie was concerned with leaving Neal with the suit. Peter was experiencing a calm now but he was prone to go off, and usually at Neal. When Neal spoke in that tone Mozzie was already abandoning the warehouse to help his friend.

"Keller took Elizabeth," Neal whimpered. Mozzie froze. Keller took Mrs. Suit? She had nothing to do with this. That rat bastard had crossed the line. No doubt the suit was coming down hard on Neal. That kid attracted the worst luck, guess that's why the universe gave him Mozzie.

"What do you need?" Moz asked. "Peter won't be allowed to work on the case because he's too heavily involved. So we won't have the FBI's equipment. And without it I don't know how we can find her," Neal said.

Mozzie knew a way but he swore he'd never use her like this. She deserved a life. But Mrs. Suit was kidnapped, his friend was on the chopping block, and they had no other option.

"I know someone who can help us. Meet me at Central Park in twenty, bring the suit," Moz instructed. "Thanks Moz," Neal sighed gratefully. Mozzie knew he apologize for his behavior, but knew Neal knew his coming back was all the apology he needed, for now anyway.

*.*.*

Precisely twenty minutes later, Neal and Peter came near the park. El's car was missing, Peter's had been logged into evidence, and they didn't have time to mess with a cab. When they approached Mozzie looked up from his set on a bench, with an oddly cold and serious expression.

"Alright suit, I don't like working with the FBI, but in light of the fact that El has been taken and my friend is on the outs, I'll help you. But there are rules and this time they're none negotiable," he said firmly.

Neal raised an eyebrow at his friend, Moz was never this serious. "I don't have time for these games," Peter groaned. "Then make time," Mozzie hissed, as he walked to the entrance. "Any idea who this person is?" Peter asked, Mozzie's new attitude was concerning.

"If I did, would you believe me?" Neal retorted, though it sounded like 'how's the weather?' Peter winced internally. He knew he was being a hypocrite. From day one he asked Neal to be honest with him and Neal had, until Peter stopped being honest with him.

He didn't tell him about Kate and Fowler until Neal almost lost his life from protecting him. After the whole Adler fiasco, Peter had been so relieved, they all made it out alive; the man responsible for the problems in Neal's life was gone. Neal could have a normal life.

Then the painting scrap fell in front of him, and it was like the biggest punch in the stomach Peter ever had. Betrayal rushed through his veins, and like old times he accused Neal of playing an angle.

He had gone this before with the jade elephants, and the pink necklace. And each time after all the yelling and anger, Neal still went above and beyond to prove he hadn't betrayed his trust. Now that he thought about it he still hadn't even with this one. Having that treasure was Neal's dream, yet he was still in New York. He was proving he was trustable, but Peter's damn anger wouldn't let he see it.

The park had its usual teenagers on skateboards, dog owners, and little families, but no one that looked like they were shady enough to be with Mozzie. Someone walked past them, but they were so wrapped up in their own thoughts, no one noticed.

Mozzie stopped and looked around for his contact. Both Peter and Neal were surprised when he started walking toward a girl walking on the edge of the fountain. "I saw a sparrow in the park today," Mozzie said. Peter rolled his eyes, not the bird thing again. "Really? I heard an owl call," the girl replied.

Well that was off, usually it was what color the bird was. "I bet he was a handsome fella," Mozziesmiled. "Oh no doubt about it," she said then turned around and their first thought was 'Wow'.

She was around Neal's age, maybe younger. Her hair was as black as a raven and looked just as soft, with blue streaks in it. Her skin was smooth pure alabaster. The most startling feature were the two flawless sapphires she had for eyes. She also dressed oddly for someone Moz knew.

She had on a tight white tank top, a black sleeveless cardigan, ripped and grease stained jeans and a pair of blue converse. She stepped off the fountain and hugged Mozzie

"Good to see ya, Mo," she greeted. "Likewise. Just wish it was under different circumstances," Mozziegrumbled.

"You've never called me when there's trouble. Ever. This kind of exciting," the girl grinned. "Glad you like. This is Peter Burke for the FBI white collar division, "Mozzie

introduced. Peter let out a sharp wince as she shook his hand.

"Firm handshake," he commented. "I work in metal," she stated. "And this is Neal Caffery, a good close friend of mine."

"It's nice to finally meet you. Dad talks about you a lot," she said, causing Mozzie to flush in embarrassment. "Are you going to introduce us to your friend?" Peter asked. "Not particularly," Mozzie muttered. "You want me to tell them," she inquired. "Go ahead."

"I'm Saphira Sparrow and I'm his daughter," she smiled. "Come again?" Peter asked a little shell-shocked. "Not my blood daughter. I found her on the streets when she was seven. She distracted the cops off my trail, and I took her in," Mozzie explained.

"Blood or not you're still my dad in every sense of the name. You gave me a name, put me through school, and didn't blow up in front of my boyfriend," she said slyly. "I like Tim, it's his job I'm not fond of," he defended. "Fine with me," she said.

"Moz, how come I'm just now hearing about this?" Neal asked a little hurt. "I've made a lot of enemies and I didn't want them to connect me to her. It's just a habit. Reason why she's here is because I don't have the resources to track Keller," Mozzie admitted.

"I thought she wasn't a part of you cons," Peter said suspicious. "I'm not a con, I'm a mechanic. He just taught me all the tricks of the trade," she explained. "Really?" he asked in his agent tone. "Really, really," she grinned and pulled out a worn wallet.

"Hey that's mine," Peter said surprised and snatched it out of her hand. "Did you want the stuff that was in it?" she asked, fighting back a smile as she held up a small wad of cash and a few credit cards. "The hell. What else of mine did you take?" he demanded.

She pulled out his house keys, cell phone, the other cell phone Keller gave him( he was suppose to give that to the FBI), a pack of his favorite green Tic-Tacs, his badge and finally his gun.

"How'd you get that?" Neal asked impressed. He couldn't lift Peter's badge, not that he wanted to. She was really good at it. "Shouldn't you be wondering how he didn't notice they were missing until I told him and how I've had them for ten minutes," she said.

"Ten minutes? That's when we-" "Came in, I know," she grinned. "Where are my bullets?" Peter asked calmly. "Well looking at the trajectory of the sun and the wind speed, I'd say underwater. I dumped them in the sewer," she said.

"Excuse me," Peter growled, his face turning a dangerous shade of red. "Hey you can keep the gun, but if you think I'm going to be anywhere near you while it's locked and loaded. You must be out cha damn mind," she stated firmly. Peter looked ready to yell his lungs out, but this wasn't the time.

"Peter," Neal warned. "So will you help us?" he asked. They didn't have any other options, if she said no, Neal wasn't sure how they were going to find El. "Sure, why not? I was already in the neighborhood," she shrugged. "Helping with a con?" Peter asked.

This was definitely the wrong thing to say in front of her. Her gaze became sharp and cold enough to freeze over a very active volcano. "The reason I'm in town is because a friend of mine was having a party. That good enough for you, _agent_," she spat the word like it was the dirtiest word in the English language.

"Suit I know you're tense and mad about what happened to El but keep your FBI self away from my daughter," Mozziegrowled, looking like an overprotective parent ready to throw down for his kid. Neal thought it suited him, having seen ghosts and the same thing when he was in trouble.

"Well excuse me, but what am I suppose to think when your father is moving treasure and you just happen to show up?" Peter asked hotly. "Treasure? There's treasure?" Saphira asked, her mood going a complete one eighty, from pissed off to kid in a candy store. "I love treasure. Whatever this is I want in," she said eagerly.

Peter and Neal looked at Mozzie for an explanation for his daughter behavior. He just shrugged and said, "I think she's related to pirates." "Details, details," she pressed impatiently.

"We found a German u-boat filled with Nazi plunder but when we went to get it the warehouse exploded," Peter explained. "Treasure and explosions seem to go hand and hand," she mused. "Where's the bad guy in all this?" she asked. "What makes you think there was a bad guy," Peter asked.

"There's always someone else after the treasure. It's like the axiom of treasure hunting; Riley Pool, National Treasure; Book of Secrets," she said matter-of-factly. Despite himself, Peter grinned. "Okay there was a bad guy by the name Vincent Adler-"

"The Vincent Adler, the one who stole billions of dollars then vanished into thin air. Oh man I need to come to New York more often," she said psyched. "Anyway, he's no longer an issue. Everyone thought the art was gone, but I thought Neal took it. Turns out our dad snuck in a stole it all and made us think it blew up. And this two have kept quiet about it and now a guy named Keller took my wife and it demanding the treasure," Peter finished.

"Who's Keller?" Saphira asked. "He's a low life scum, with no humanity or morals, and he's Neal's rival. He usually shows up to try and make an ass out of him," Peter said. "Hence the rival part," Saphira grinned. "I have a picture of him," Moz spoke up, flipping through his phone.

"That's the toad!" she accused. "You're met him before?" the three chorused surprised. "Unfortunately yes. It was about three years ago. Guy came into my shop with a busted radiator. He hit on me, but that wasn't anything new, so I didn't think much of it. Until he smacked my ass," she said miffed, putting her hands on her hips.

Mozzie looked ready to go after Keller himself. Peter looked scandalized. Neal looked…thrilled? This girl was a firecracker and would no doubt not tolerant such actions on her person, literary. The idea Keller got his from a female mechanic he put the moves on then rejected, possibly by physical violence was oh so sweet.

"I told him not do it again and he didn't listen," she glared at the memory. "What'd you do?" Neal asked a grin creeping on his face. "Let's just say I hope he wasn't planning on having kids, because it's no longer an option," she said ruefully. The three winced at her implication.

"Yeah he girlfriend had kind of the same reaction," she said. "Girlfriend?" Neal asked, a sense of foreboding fell on him. "Yeah, red hair, stormy gray eyes, packing," she shrugged. "She had a gun!" Mozzie cried, looking ready to have a stroke.

"Easy dad. Don't blow a gasket on me. She never pulled it on me. No one expects the mechanic to know when someone's packing, much less lift it," she soothed. "Why I'm I the last to know? I'm sure your group of friends know, and Tim," he said frustrated.

"Of course my friends know I called them to vent. And Tim only found out because his frat boy of a best friend asked and wouldn't shut up about it. The reason you're hearing about it now is because you were in one of your gray areas. Besides I took care of it.

"I threatened to call the cops; this of course was a bluff. I don't call the cops for anything in regards to my shops. If someone can get past my security, they deserve the pick of the lot. As soon as I mentioned the cops they were ghost. Hadn't thought about it until now," she said.

"How does this help us find him now?" Peter asked impatiently. "Patience is a foreign concept with you isn't it? I'll call a friend of mine who is an ace at finding people. She'll get you everything you need and more," she promised.

Mozzie's phone went off, signally he had a text. "It's that guy I talked to about the-" he cut off and looked at Saphira. "Should I leave now, so can't be held accountable in a court of law?" she asked causally. "No, I'll leave. I have things I need to take care of. Stay safe. Don't upset her," the last was directed at Peter before he melted into the crowd

""Hey Baby Girl. It's Sparrow. Yeah, I'm fine. Listen I need you to do me a favor, it involves your favorite area of expertise. Oh and it kind of, may involve the FBI," she said calmly, and then jerked the hone from her ear before a very agitated Spanish woman started screaming on the other end.

"Problems?" Peter asked amused. "I may have forgotten, what with the mention of actual treasure, that my friend loathes anything with a badge. Use to think that too, but my boyfriend works at NCIS so I kind of got over it," she explained, then went back the phone call.

"Em. Em. Emerald! You know I wouldn't ask unless I had to, and as your friend I thought you should know what you're dealing with," she said. "Fine, what do you want?" Em asked. "I want all the info you can get on a Matthew Keller. Can you do that?" she asked.

"We already tried that," Peter protested, but Saphira waved him off. "Don't doubt me. It's insulting," Em said bluntly. "My sincerest apologizes," Saphira responded. "I can meet you in about thirty minutes at the Rockefeller Center Café," Em said. "Perfect. You're a goddess, Em," she praised.

An embarrassed mumble was all she got before Em hung up. "We better get going," Saphira said. "Yeah, getting a cab is going to be hell," Peter groaned. "We don't need a cab. I have a car," she said. "Moz, always said a New Yorker who owns a car, wasn't one you can trust," Neal joked. "To that I say; there's an exception to every rule," she said slyly.

*.*.*

They followed her to an ally a block from the park, her car covered by a sheet. With a flourish she pulled the sheet off and the boys stared in awe. Neal wasn't a car person, per se, just what looked fancy and fast. This car however was a work of art.

"Is that a –" Peter asked. "Mercedes AMG CLK GTR, only thirty-five ever made (real fact). Some drunken trust fund baby sent her into a pile up with the cop in New Jersey. I found her and totally revamped her engine. Four point four liter v-8 engine with 1000 horsepower, got 280 speedometer, and goes from 0-60 in two seconds flat," she purred.

It not only did sounded cool it looked the part as well. It was a stunning sapphire blue that faded down to a glossy midnight black. It had tinted windows, sparkling chromo rims, and on the hood was the most detailed, life-like and gorgeous blue dragon.

"My dad wanted my to be an artist to a degree, but my Da Vinci skill lay in metal and airbrush, not canvas and brushstrokes," she said as she gazed proudly at her creation. Neal knew the feeling. Whether is was from one of forgeries or one of his originals, to step back and see what you've made and it's breathtaking…it's the greatest feeling there is.

"It's sure is a beauty. Mind if I try to forge it?" Neal joked. "I'd be insulted if you didn't want to, but she's all mine," she answered slyly. "Alright boys, pile in."

The car ride was quiet and awkward. Saphira had them both sit in the back because she 'didn't want to play favorites' by having one of them sit up front. Neal didn't think Peter was still mad at him, or as mad as he had been anyway. But felt so in the doghouse that he stepped completely away from the line.

Peter was thinking and without El to level him out, his thoughts were more accusations. Part of his mind, the illogical part, blamed this whole mess on Neal. He lied, stole, and played Peter until it blew up in his face. He deserved to squirm. The other part, the logical side, which oddly enough sounded like El. told him that Keller, was an absolute bastard, who was using his emotions against him.

The Pink Panther theme song brought him out of his thoughts. Saphira answered her phone with a happy smile on her face. "Hey Tim. I'm good, thanks. This trip is way more fun then I thought it'd be. My dad called me up and now I'm helping an off-duty FBI agent and his partner keep a Nazi treasure safe and assist in finding a kidnapper. No I have been drinking. This is actually happening. It's New York, Tim. Weird stuff like this happens on every corner, they're just merging together.

"Hey, you think your friend Thom E. would like this story. It would get Tony and Ziva off his back. Well, he'd have to make it worth my while," she said then giggled. "Sounds like you'd have some competition. I gotta go; I'll be back by tomorrow night. Give Jethro a treat and Abby a Caf-Pow for me. Love ya, bye," she said.

"Are you dating to guys?" Peter asked confused. Saphira just burst out laughing and walked to the café. The café had a warm, homey atmosphere. The perfect place to get info on a kidnapper.

A young waiter approached Saphira. "Excuse me, are you Ms. Sparrow?" he asked nervously. "May I ask who wants to know?" she replied. "A very odd lady with green hair, who requested a private corner," he answered. "Yep, that's me. Thanks for the help," she said shaking his hand then began to walk to the curtain off corner.

Behind them the waiter shouted, "Yes!" then he went really quiet as people stared at him. "What's got him so happy?" Peter asked. "He's having a good day. Between Em and I, he just made a five hundred dollar tip," Saphira answered causally. "How can you afford to be that generous?" Peter asked shocked at the amount.

"Inheritance," she said vaguely. But Peter wasn't going to let her go without a full explanation. "Okay I was fresh out of college with a degree in world history, but I had a talent and a passion for cars.

"One day when I was driving around New York, I spotted some guy yelling at his driver. I stopped and asked if I could help. I had his car fixed before the tow truck made it halfway there. He was impressed and offered me a job. Turns out that guy was, Henry Horton, the billionaire stock blocker.

"Soon I was his mechanic, assistant, and escort to all his galas. When he died he left me _everything_. Mo said it would have taken him eight years to pull off something like that, and it just fell into my lap. That good enough for you?" she asked, side-stepping Peter to get to the curtain. Inside was one of the bizarrest things Peter and Neal had ever seen.

A girl was sitting with feet, decked in green knee high converse, crossed on the table with a laptop in front of her. She wore a green plaid miniskirt with black leggings, and a crisp white collared shirt with a loose emerald green tie. But what was so bizarre was the neon yellow sunhat that shadowed her face, and the cigar clamped between her lips, which moved with astounding swiftness. One side inhaled then the other let out small puffs of sweet smelling smoke.

"Well ain't you a sight," Saphira commented. The girl sighed and removed her hat, letting her long dark brown hair with green tips fall down her back, and revealing the deep emeralds that claimed to be her eyes. It was like Saphira if she went green.

"Can't believe you've got me in the same room as a fed," Em grumbled. "Yeah well what are you gonna do?" Saphira shrug. "Leave," she retorted the 'duh' left unsaid. "Can we at least be polite to each other?" Saphira asked. "If her info is good," Peter said. "If?" Em said clearly angered by his words.

"Well be. He meant 'well be'," Saphira said hastily. "I want his badge before I tell him anything," Em demanded. Peter looked like he would do no such thing, only to have Saphira causally slide it across the table to Em. She pointedly ignored the glare he sent her.

"I got everything but his birth certificate and who his parents are," Em said then leaned across the table. 'This guy is not the friendliest of breeds, I suggest getting out," she warned. "Can't Em there's treasure what needs protecting," Saphira grinned.

"Alright. For starter his real name isn't Matthew Keller, it's Marvin Lazowski," she said. "Seriously?" Saphira laughed. "We checked for that and nothing came up," Peter protested.

"That's because he had it done in Mexico. He held up a guy at gunpoint. After he left the guy filed a police report, and then three days later he was found dead in his apartment. Someone bashed his head into the wall," Em explained. "Damn," Saphira hissed. "After that he went to a guy that specialized in permanently changing hair coloring. Then Matthew Keller started popping up for frauds, armed robberies, stealing art, ect." Em explained.

"How about what he's been up recently," Peter pressed. Em glared at him over the top of her screen. "Recently, he was involved in a rare wine auction, was wanted by the Russian mob, and was arrested by you two. Then he broke out of jail, hired a photographer to kidnap his arresting officer. He also has been visiting a lot Nazi historical websites," Em said.

"When did he start doing that?" Peter asked interested. "When he got a call from some guy I can't back trace," Em sighed. "Some guy?" Peter asked glancing at Neal. In response Neal looked down.

"Damn it, Neal," Peter bit out. "What? I didn't do it. Peter, I never meant for this to happen. It was just suppose to be Moz and I. I could have left last night but I stayed. Doesn't that count for something?" he asked desperately.

"It would have, but it got knocked out by the lying and the evidence. That's what determines where I go in a case, because having a feeling isn't proof. And all the evidence points to you," Peter hissed.

"Question; if the police have your prints and practically every damning piece of evidence, does that mean you're guilty?" Em asked. "I believe the lovely lady with the pretty hair buzzed in."

"Nope," Saphira answered. "One time my boyfriend's best friend was accused of murder, they had his prints, his teeth marks, blood, and right down to the carpet fibers in his trunk, and he didn't do it. It was the forensic assistant, with the grudge, in D.C," Saphira grinned. "Keller said he saw it and that Neal had it," Peter persisted.

"So you're going to believe the guy that is known for killing people just because they're in his way, kidnapped both you and your wife, and is generally the cockiest rat bastard in the world, then the man, who despite all the crap you throw at him, helps you put the bad guys away. Not to sound rude but _are you stupid_?" Saphira demanded.

"We made a deal and he broke it," Peter said stubborn. "You were shutting me out, before this even happened. I've tried to fix it but I can only get so far," Neal said. "Is this suppose to make me feel bad? I've been giving the chance to have an actual life since I agreed to this, and you kept throwing in my face. When the chips are down you are nothing but a con," Peter spat.

"It's you own damn fault," Saphira said to Peter. "Yeah, how's that?" Peter asked. "You tell him he should do things by the rules, but you constantly shove him into situations where he has to bend the rules or you'll put him back in prison. And when he does everything you asked, you turn around criticize him for doing it. He does everything to try and please you and you just jerk him around.

"The only difference between you two is a badge and a record. On the street no one would know the damn difference. You want to get your wife back? Then stop being Agent Burke, because all he's good for is making an ass out of himself with his snap judgments. And that's who Keller wants to play with. But Peter is the wild card and that can mean the victory."

"You can act like a jerk all you want, but you know you care about him, and if he got hurt while you were ignoring him, you'd be kicking yourself for being an absolute moron," she lectured.

Peter looked at Neal, really _looked_ at him. His eyes shown with fear, his hands shook with faint tremors, and looked younger then he usually did. Like a kid. Then Peter realized he was a kid. A kid with the worst luck in the world.

Peter had promised himself he would put Neal on the right path in life, now he saw he hadn't put any effort in that promised. Instead of listening to him and believing he could do something right on his own, he always assumed the worst, that he had a side angle. And that was no way to get Neal to walk the path less trailed by.

"I'm sorry, Neal. I screwed up," Peter admitted. "S'okay I haven't helped much," Neal mumbled. "No this one is all me. You've proven time and again I can trust you and I think the worst of you and I shouldn't."

"It just really sucks to have the guy, who I consider a good partner and one of my best friends constantly remind me that they have the power to send me back to jail, and never take anything I say at face value," Neal said.

Now it made sense as to why he took things more personally with Peter then others, like Agent Rice calling him a tool in her belt. Comments like that fell of Neal like water off a ducks feathers. But anytime Peter put him down it was like a punch in the gut.

"Well if I ever act like not a partner again, or I'm being an idiot you call me now it, okay? And I'll try not to blow up at you. Deal?" Peter asked. Neal tilted his head to look at him. His eyes had some of that mischievous shine in them that usually made Peter suspicious but was now welcomed. "Making a deal with the conman? Pretty sure there's some legal question there somewhere," he said a ghost of his conman smile on his lips.

"This is real sweet and all, but Keller's new thugs for hire just showed up," Em warned. Peter was up and peering through the curtain in a flash. Four men that looked like they could past for quarterbacks for the NFL were lurking in the main room. On instinct he reached for his gun, and then realized Saphira had dumped his bullets.

He bit back a groan of frustration; it was just as good he couldn't do anything to them anyway. Meanwhile Saphira was working on their escape route. "There a back door here?" she asked. Em pointed to the hidden door. "Good, one more thing; find Elizabeth Burke and call me with anything new," she said grabbing Peter and Neal and started for the door.

"Wait, what about-" Peter looked back and saw Em had disappeared. The only thing that said she had even been there at all was the loud yellow hat and the smell of smoke. "My friends are very resourceful. Now come on," Saphira urged.

Once outside they sprinted to the car just as the thugs came out of the café. Saphira didn't wait for Peter and Neal to buckle up; she pilled away from the curb, and shot off, proving the 0-60 thing.

"Here's your badge back. I'll need permission to break a few road laws," she said tossing it back, while effortlessly weaving through traffic. "We've got company," Neal warned. Two Porsche's were racing after them, not so gracefully avoid the other cars.

"Floor it they're coming in fast," Peter ordered. "No backset driving," Saphira growled, and then made a hard left into a dead end. The other cars followed, and Saphira, in one motion, activated the emergency brake, bringing them to an abrupt halt, shifted into reverse and shot out of the ally. Before they turned away they saw the two cars managed to stop without hitting the wall or each other.

Saphira's laugh of excitement was short lived as a police siren went off. "Man what'd I do?" she asked. "Just pull over," Peter said. "And tell them what? That the reason I'm acting out a real-life Fast and the Furious; is because we're avoiding some thugs for hire that are after you cause of the case you're working on, that you're not even suppose to be on in the first place?" she asked sarcastically.

"Speaking of thugs," Neal said. The thugs were back and closing in. One side swiped the police car, causing it to crash into a presser-by car. They accelerated and passed Saphira then shot out the wheels of two cars in front of her, causing them to spin out.

"Whoa." Saphira jerked the wheel, making her car fishtail then flipped it in reserve again and stomped on the gas. Once traffic cleared enough she shifted back to drive. Out of no where the two cars come out and boxed her in, then a third car shot out and blocked them.

Tires squealed in protest at their abrupt halt. The thugs swarmed, looming menacingly. Saphira, extremely pissed at being out driven, threw open her door, making it smack one of them in knees.

The others wrenched open Peter's and Neal's doors and dragged them out. "You get that one to the boss," the thug holding Peter ordered. "He's got plans for him," he sneered. "You leave him alone you sick son of a bitch," Peter snarled, trying to throw the thug off him.

The guy slugged him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him, while two other thugs hauled Neal into the third car and drove off. "What do we do with the girl?" one of them asked. "Boss never mentioned a girl, so anything goes," the one holding Peter smirked.

"You're right anything goes," Saphira agreed, before lunging at thug one. She kicked him hard in the shin, then when he doubled over; she rammed her elbow into the back of his neck, and thus knocked him out. Before thug two had a chance to be surprised, Saphira socked him in the jaw, which let out an audible crack. He fell to the ground with no problem.

Peter's thug, now having lost all interest in going by 'boss's' rules, shoved Peter away and took a swing at her. Saphira caught his arm then twisted it up behind his back, then grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and slammed his head against the trunk of her car.

Panting slightly she looked at Peter. "Would really appreciate it if you didn't mention this to my dad," she said. "Will do. We need to find Neal," Peter agreed hopping back in the car. "You need to go back to the office; we'll need manpower to take down this guy. I think that was his plan all along.

"Even if he got the treasure, you and Neal wouldn't give up until you caught him. But Neal knows him better then you, so he'd have the take Neal out of play," Saphira explained. "Sounds like him. How'd you do that back there?" Peter asked.

"Even if my dad tried to keep me hidden I figured one day someone would find out. So I learned to defend myself. All props to the YMCA," she grinned.

*.*.*.*

"Keller took Neal and there's better then good chance he's going to kill him," Peter explained to his boss. Saphira had refused to go in, so Peter was stuck explaining his actions to his boss. "Damn it, Burke," Hughes groaned.

"It was my wife, sir. I couldn't just sit around and wait," Peter defended. This was a waste of time. He needed to find Neal; God only knew what that psycho would do to him. "I see your point. I think what we need to do is-" "Peter Burke," Elizabeth's voice sounded out though the bullpen and into Hughes' office.

Peter whirled around and saw his wife standing in the middle of FBI headquarters, unharmed, beautiful, and seriously mad. Behind her was Saphira, looked extremely pleased with herself.

"El," Peter sighed in relief as he hugged his wife, not believing she was here. "Peter, what the hell is going on? Why is our house covered in crime scene tape?" she demanded. "I thought you were kidnapped," he answered.

"Why would you think that?" she asked confused. "Because Keller-" Peter cut himself off as realization dawned on him. Keller had played him. He knew if he planted the right evidence and enough doubt in his mind, Peter would abandon Neal in his anger. But he hadn't. If Mozzie hadn't come back and introduced them to Saphira, he would have done actually what Keller wanted, then it'd have been too late to help Neal. But where had El been this whole time, if she wasn't with Keller.

"Where were you?" Peter asked. "After I talked to you, Yvonne called me. Her son was in a car accident and she needed me to take her to the hospital. I wrote you a note, and left my phone at home so I couldn't call you. Once we heard he was going to be fine Yvonne said I could go home, and you know the rest," El explained.

Damn this guy was good. He tapped their phone to use their conversation against him, took her note and phone, and staged the crime scene. He planned out everything. If his plan had worked he'd have had Neal for hours before El showed up.

"Keller faked your kidnapping so he could get Neal and the treasure," Peter said. "Oh my God. Where's Neal?" she asked. "Keller's goons grabbed him less then an hour ago. I haven't figured out where he is yet," Peter said.

"We have now," Saphira spoke up, gesturing to her phone, then headed for the elevator. Peter grabbed his coat and kissed his wife. "I'll been him back El," he promised. "You better, he's a good kid," she said.

Outside they ran into Mozzie and Emerald. "Where is he?" Saphira asked. "Airstrip by the Hudson, hanger four," Em answered. "That's where Kate died," Peter said. "Probably wants to rub his face in it. Sadistic bastard," Mozzie muttered as they jumped in the car. "We need to get there fast."

"How? Traffic at this time is horrible," Peter said. "Not a problem. Em?" Saphira said. "Got it," she answered, holding up a small handheld device and then all the streetlights in front of them went green. "I love techno magic," Saphira grinned then floored it.

*.*.*.*

The airstrip was pitch black save for a single light that shadowed the two thugs guarding the door. "I've got the two by the door. Once they're out of the way, go help Neal," Peter ordered. Em messed with her handheld then suddenly the airstrip was lit up like a football field, blinding the two thugs.

Peter tackled them both without any trouble, but as he was handcuffing the last one, a smooth yet angry voice caught his attention. "Agent Burke, why am I surprised to see you here?" Keller asked.

Peter had put down his gun to handcuff the thugs, allowing Keller to take it. "You just couldn't play the game. You just had to stick with Caffery. I wouldn't have to go after you if you had left him alone," Keller hissed. "You and I both know you'd have found some reason to go after him, Keller," Neal said, coming out of the hanger to stand by Peter.

His strides were sure and confident, his face betrayed nothing. "Always trying to be the good guy, eh, Caffery?" Keller sneered. "You're right I would have found a reason to go after him. In fact I just found one; to hurt you," he said, aiming the gun at Peter's chest then fired.

Peter closed his eyes and waited for the pain, but it never came, instead a warm body knocked him aside and onto the ground. He looked up in time to see Neal take the bullet, intended for him, in his chest and fall to the ground.

Just as suddenly as the light had flooded the airstrip, FBI agents swarmed around Keller, all guns aimed at him. Peter didn't wait to see Keller's arrest. He went to kneel by his fallen friend. When Saphira beat him to it.

"Come on, I hear it's good to walk it off," she said helping Neal to his feet. "Are you crazy? He just got shot," Peter cried outraged. "Not exactly," she grinned. She ripped open his shirt and revealed a bulletproof vest. Relief rushed through Peter like a tsunami. "How did you?"

"I lifted one when I was in your office. Thought we might need one," she beamed. "I've always wanted to know; how bad does that hurt?" she asked. "It sucks," Neal gasped. "Don't ever do something like this again," Peter said firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "No problem. You deal with the shootouts, and I'll stay in the van," Neal said. "If I had known it would be that easy, I'd have shot ages ago," Peter joked. "Yeah, how about not," Neal said seriously, making Saphira and Mozzie laugh.

Keller was sent to jail, and was constantly monitored so there was no chance of him coming back. The treasure was given to the Smithsonian and various museums. Mozzie, Neal and Peter were now a real-life National Treasure. Saphira, after reminding Peter of his promise, went back to D.C. Neal and Mozzie stayed in New York and were frequent guest at the house of Burke.

One year later **

"Well done people. We'll reconvene after lunch," Peter said to the conference room. As the agents were leaving Jones came in with a package. "This just arrived for you two," he said. "Both of us?" Neal asked. "Yep," he said then left. Peter opened the letter attached and read it aloud.

"Dear Peter and Neal, a friend of my boyfriend's wrote these stories. And the main characters; John Blue and Shawn Slade, reminded me of you. They're suppose to be based on true events. Hope you like them. Your friend off the books, S. Sparrow."

In the box were three books by an author named Thom E. Gemcity. The first was called 'Meet Me Halfway', the second 'Haunted', and the third was 'Bulletproof'. Neal flipped on the first book and read the summary.

"John Blue, head investigator of the FBI white collar division, takes on Shawn Slade, a convicted art forger he arrested years ago, as his CI, to take down the art theft underworld. As they hunt down white collar criminals, John Blue works to keep Slade out of old habits, away from a girl he feels is no good, and various law enforcers, who don't appreciate a felon taking advantage of the system. Meanwhile Slade struggles to find the ransom to get back the love of his life, at the price of a rare silver jewelry box."

"She wrote out story," Peter mused. "And we're award winners," Neal said indicating the comments on the back. "We do make an interesting story," Peter agreed. "We sure do, but if it's alright with you, I'd rather work on mortgage fraud cases for awhile," Neal said tiredly. "No argument there," Peter agreed.

*.*.*

Okay the ending may have been a little rushed but I liked it. What'd you think of the NCIS parts, any good? I titled the books in their seasons. Review, nicely of course.

Also no one has said anything about my Fairly Odd parent fanfic. Was it that bad? Come on a smiley face would work.


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